Human
by Sir-Shademan
Summary: Sync is slowly and unknowingly getting more and more attached to what he once considered his "Pathetic Life" but will he be able to handle his newfound Human emotions? Only time will tell as tensions rise. Possible pairings later on.
1. Tension

First, MAJORISH SPOILERS.

Alrighty. I was suddenly struck(no, literally struck) with inspiration for this fic. Another Sync fic, only at a mellower pace. This one'll be chaptered, but I don't plan on it being very long...that way I can finish it without quitting every two weeks. So like, I hope you enjoy it. I did.  
Well, writing it anyway. Oh, and if you're here for pairings, they'll be a bit more prominent later in the story, but I'm sure you can pick up some hints

Now lets begi-- Oh wait, I forgot our friendly neighborhood disclaimer!

**I don't own Tales of The Abyss  
So don't think I do and try to sue me, it ain't gonna work.**

* * *

Staring blankly through the commandant, a green haired, fourteen year old "boy" leaned against the wall, clearly uninterested in whatever the God-Generals were discussing over at the other side of the room; where he should have been as well. This had become nothing short of business as usual.

They were held in a large, empty chamber inside the wall of an outsized mountain, it was just another one of their hideouts. They used it to conduct meetings and experiments, among other things.

"Excuse me Sync, perhaps you could take some time out of you obviously busy job of _not listening, _to actually figure out what it is you have to do," the leader of their association, Van, spoke up to him, clearly displeased at his comrade's constant idleness.

"Yeah, right…" Sync walked up, standing alongside God-Generals. "Like it really matters…" he softly muttered under his breath.

And so Van went on to discuss their plans, giving out orders of where to go and what to do. Sync's orders remained the same as they were the last few weeks. Go to location X and look for signs or clues of Z. This time he got to go all the way to the _desert_ to do so, which only fueled his apathetic mood. Spying wasn't his favorite thing; standing still for six hours in the desert didn't seem like a very interesting or fun job.

"Sync…" The largest of the generals, Largo the Black Lion, walked next to Sync as they all departed from the meeting room to carry out their individual missions, "you really should watch yourself," he spoke in concern for his subordinate.

"Watch myself?" Sync simply rolled his eyes, "I have enough of this already, and I don't need _you_ telling me what to do too." Sync gestured for Largo to buzz off, and headed out for Chesedonia.

"You stupid little punk," Largo looked down, folding his arms, "you're going to get yourself killed with that attitude…"

"Hmm…" Van; sitting in a chair at the end of the room, watched Sync walk out, "let's hope he heard you, Largo."

* * *

Sync; who after touring the desert for a bit, made his way back into Chesedonia, continuing on what seemed to be more and more of a wild goose-chase.

The city was really odd. You had a bunch of people just sitting in the middle of the street trying to sell you stuff. How could they even sit with all this sand and dust? The buildings were tall and curvy, especially Astor's manor. It gave the place a very aristocratic feel, even though it wasn't much of a place for that kind of thing.

"Is that…?" Sync heard a familiar voice not so far in the distance, and he was able to recognize it quite easily, 'oh great, _them_ again…' he thought to himself, well aware it was those six nuisances he'd encountered various times. He even had a scar to show for each one of their previous meetings.

"Sync!" the red haired replica, Luke, sneered at him, "just what do you think you're doing showing your face around here!?"

"I don't need to answer to you," he pushed past them, brushing his shoulder against Luke's, walking away calmly.

"You!" Luke shouted, beginning to run after the God-General before getting held back by his friend, Guy.

"This is the middle of a city, Luke, you can't just go off trying to attack someone in the middle of here, and I don't think he can do that either. So no need to get all worked up right now, all right?" said Guy, tightening his grip on the hotheaded Luke.

"But…he's the reason Ion died!" Luke snarled.

"Luke, just because you have a vendetta against Mohs and the God-Generals, doesn't mean that you can just run around swinging your sword in a highly populated city. You could kill somebody or cause a panic," Guy explained, holding the boy against his chest, keeping him from getting out of the hold.

"He's right, Luke," Tear, one of the group's females spoke up, aiding Guy's voice of reason.

"…Fine! Whatever," Luke tugged Guy's arms off of him, walking in front of the group. Though stopped after a few steps when he heard a loud crunching noise, as if someone were about to cry, "ugh, what the hell is that…Anise?" Luke looked down at the youngest member of their small group.

"What? I'm fine!" She looked up; smiling brightly, despite the fact that everyone was able to tell it was false.

"Yeah…alright Anise, as long as you aren't pushing yourself too hard…" Luke resumed walking at the head of the group.

"Hmph…" Anise pouted.

Jade, the oldest of the group, sighed and pinched the bridge of his glasses, "Can we start using a different phrase? We're starting to sound like a broken record."

Before leaving, Anise looked over her shoulder; her eyes connected with Sync's, who was doing the same.

Neither of them said a word, but as they gazed, each of them knew exactly what the other was thinking.

'_Ion…' _Anise slowly walked away, trailing the rest of their group.

Sync shook his head and turned back around, "whatever…" he walked into a dark alley; a place he could collect his thoughts. Tucked between two large buildings, the alley was dirty, filled with mud and dust, making it the perfect place to be alone, knowing nobody would want to come there.

"God, I'm sick of this thing," Sync spat on the ground, "They either hate me or don't appreciate me," he sighed, "but I suppose such is the life of an empty vessel like me…"

"You better not be thinking of what I think you are," a large, dark figure appeared behind Sync, startling the boy.

"Ah!" he jumped, "L-largo?"

"Your actions have made Van suspicious," the big, burly God-General walked in front of the boy, axe in tow.

"What actions? I haven't done anything! I'm just going to keep being Van's little tool like always, what's the problem?" Sync's face turned scarlet. He felt betrayed as well as angry that Van would think like that.

"Calm down," Largo closed his eyes. "You keep acting as if there is one. You sound as though you don't want to just be Van's tool…"

"What? No! I'm glad to be able to help him destroy the score!" this time he yelled, acting very defensive as if he had something to hide; but even he wasn't quite sure if he did or not.

"Then what's with all this complaining about being ordered around?" Largo asked, bending down a bit so he could be at eye level with his subordinate.

Sync narrowed his eyes, "I..." he shook his head and held out his fist, "I don't know!"

Largo crossed his arms and made an intense stare. You could cut the tension with a butter knife. "Well then, you're not worth my time," he turned and began walking away. "The next time we see each other…" he sighed and walked out of sight.

Sync gritted his teeth, "Largo…Van…none of them trust me," he whispered to himself, before catching himself on his thoughts, "…why do I want to be trusted? I…I don't care about that kind of stuff…"

* * *

A bit later, Sync decided it would be best to just leave Chesedonia as of now. Besides, he already saw the group from before, no need to stay and waste his time. So he headed out into the hot, tan desert, trudging through the thick sand.

"This is getting-- Whoa!" he was suddenly tackled by a large Liger, staring at him not viciously, but rather, playfully.

Sync was knocked clean onto the ground, the Liger holding him in place; "get off of me!" he attempted pushing it off, but it was able to easily overpower him.

"I found you!" A familiar pink haired face appeared over Sync's vision, looking at him upside down with a faint smile on her face.

"Arietta? What do _you _want?" Sync couldn't help his venomous tone, everyone was following him and suspicious, 'Dammit, Van…" he thought to himself, trying to keep his anger hidden from Arietta. Over the past few weeks, he'd gotten this odd feeling around her; something along the lines of caring what she thinks about him.

"Commandant…asked me to come get you for him," she stared into his eyes; her smile gone and the usual 'dead inside' expression once again plastered over her face.

Sync only got angrier, biting his lower lip and releasing it, "why does he need to see me?" he decided to ask why instead of ditching her as previously plotted in his head.

"He said that he had something to discuss. He sounded angry," she softly explained.

"Well, you can tell him I'm busy," he clenched his fist and finally got to shoving the liger off, standing up and towering over the small girl; showing he was the one in control.

"But…" she paused, as if thinking of an adequate consequence that would get him to come with her.

"But nothing! I'm sick of him treating me like garbage!" he couldn't keep it pent up anymore, he had felt like a bottle ready to explode, and he did just that.

"But…I thought you are garbage," she tilted her head naively. Sync would often refer to himself as garbage, a piece of meat, useless, trash, and a pathetic spawn of life. And the fact that he's suddenly offended at being one of those things greatly confused her.

"I am garbage," he replied oddly with a matter-of-factly tone, yet still sharp from his anger.

"I don't think I get it. Then…what's the problem?" she inquired.

"Right now, it's you," Sync approached the girl and flicked her forehead with his index finger, seeming to avoid the question.

"Ow!" she pouted, frowning at him.

"Now go back to Van," he shooed her off and turned around to begin walk away.

"I can't! Not without you with me!" she grabbed his arm and tugged.

"I said get away from me," he began walking and lightly shoved her off of him, totally calm again.

"…I'm sorry…" Arietta sighed, calling one of her birds to take her away.

"For what?" he asked, still in range for her to hear and vice-versa.

"…I can't say…" and she was gone.

* * *

"Ugh…" the replica kicked up some sand, closing his eyes "why do I care…"

"He just didn't…I couldn't make him…" Arietta stood nervously before the Commandant, Van, who was scolding her for her inability to bring Sync back to him.

"I said by any means necessary. And you just weren't strong enough to use force!" the Commandant exclaimed, his eyes filled with not rage or disappointment, but something else.

"I'm sorry…" she tilted her head down, light red eyes cast on the ground; ashamed of herself.

"Tch. It's done, not point in pointless apologies you probably don't even mean," Van's harsh tone echoed through the large warehouse of a meeting spot they were currently housed in.

"I couldn't hurt him…"

"Because he looks like Ion? Please…" he turned his head away from her.

Arietta didn't respond. She had to think to herself about whether or not Van was correct. Sync was her friend…right? Or was it just the fact that he was part of Ion that kept her around him?

"Arietta!" Van yelled, "are you even listening!?"

"…Y-yes…" she stuttered, lying through her teeth.

"No matter…" he unsheathed his sword and stared into it, "I'll be going to do what you should've done…"

Arietta made a small gasp, thinking Van was going to kill Sync.

"By any means necessary…I won't have him stray the path," Van walked out of the room and began heading to the desert to find his green-haired general.

"Sync…" Arietta muttered before running after him. She didn't want to let Sync get hurt. It would be all her fault, or at least that's what her first notion of though was.

* * *

It was nightfall, and Sync finally made it to the Oasis, where he planned to rest. The Oasis was a small, but respectable plot of land in the middle of the desert. It was filled with green grass and even trees, along with a small spring in the middle filled with purifying water. It was a pretty sight.

He sat against a tree, once again gathering his thoughts, desperately trying to figure out just what is going on inside his head, with no avail in sight. "Van…" he had come to hate saying that name recently. All it was to him was a symbol of how much of a tool he finds himself as. But why hasn't this bothered him before?

"You called?" Sync looked up in shock at who was now standing before him.

"C-commandant! I—" Sync was cut off by a slap to the face, knocking his head back into the tree.

"I don't have time for your shit," he delivered a swift, incredibly powerful fist into Sync's jaw.

"Wh-what!?" Sync wasn't able to react or defend himself; he was still practically in shock.

"Your attitude…disobeying orders…what do you think you're doing?!" he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Sync's head.

Sync looked up at Van, contemplating whether or not her should fight back, or simply take it, "I…" the words just couldn't form in his head. Even he didn't understand himself, "I don't know…"

"You don't know…" Van swung his fist into Sync again, this time knocking him over, causing Sync to spit some blood out of his mouth.

"I…I-I…" Sync tried to scramble back up to his feet, but only to get pushed back down; Van's foot placed firmly on his chest.

"What's wrong?" Van spat on him, "you had so much to say to Largo and Arietta…" he unsheathed his sword, a glare from the moonlight shining onto Sync's face, causing the blood around his lips to glisten.

"I didn't…" Sync could barely get a word out, his mind was moving at a mile a minute, but still going absolutely nowhere. Though his thoughts were cut short at the hiss of the skin on his arm getting ripped open by Van's blade, "Agh!" he suddenly screamed in anguish.

"What's next? Going to betray me?" he made another slash against Sync's arms, blood spitting all over the oasis ground, the boy screaming in pain. Van's strength was pretty incredible, and Sync didn't have the most stable body.

"I…I'm not!" the blood seeping out of his wounds released even faster as his heartbeat increased, getting repeatedly slashed and ripped. His violent screams of pain echoed through the desert, yet no one seemed to notice; especially not Van, who continued to rend his general apart.

"I absolutely can't stand people like you…" Van grimaced, drawing back his blade, staring at the now blood-soaked boy, "you had ideals, dreams…you're casting that all away…"

By now, Sync was red all over, blood seeping out of his arms, legs, mouth, and head. "I-I'm not! I'm just your tool…I'm here to help you…I'm here to be your vessel…"

Van simply stared him down, as if waiting for the right moment to strike.

Sync took a moment to look at himself; at what Van had just done, "why don't you just kill me? I'm just your trash anyway…your worthless little pawn…" he croaked out, trying to cloak the desperation hidden under his breath.

"You don't want to die," the older man grabbed Sync by his collar and lifted him up; Sync was too weak to fight back at this point.

"G-go ahead…" Sync coughed out some blood onto his own clothes, "kill me…"

Van only smiled maliciously, "If you're sure…" he pressed Sync's body back against the tree, driving his swords through his shoulder, skewering him to the tree. The pain was so immense that he couldn't even make a sound.

For the first time either of them could remember, Sync had a distinct fear in his eyes; he was scared, scared for his life. He couldn't really grasp that this was happening. Van didn't normal do this stuff with them when they did something wrong. And he hadn't been acting this way for long. What happened? Maybe he knew something Sync didn't.

"Where's that fighting spirit I saw a moment ago? Come on…tell me to kill you…" Van slowly, but surely wrenched the blade from Sync's shoulder, watching the boy squirm around in anguish; too weak to even manage another scream.

"I...b-blood…" he had become completely terrified, covered in his own warm, crimson fluid.

"Don't you want to die? I thought you didn't want this pathetic life…and if I don't need you…nobody does," Van ripped his sword from Sync, dropping the boy onto his knees.

"I…I can't…" Sync gasped, lowering his head, a few salty tears dripping down from his eyes, traveling steadily down his cheek and onto the grass of the oasis.

Van laughed, "I didn't know you were this pathetic…" he pressed his bloody sword lightly against Sync's throat, lifting his chin up so that they made eye contact. Soft, fearful emerald eyes, meeting with narrow, heated cobalt ones. "Now…beg for your life."

* * *

I can't tell you how much I love cliffhanger endings.  
Anyways, look forward to chapter 2, there'll be blood, complicated relationships, car chases, and gunplay.  
...Well, something like that.

Until next time!


	2. My Reflection

**A/N: **Part two is here. We'll be dealing with some interesting stuff in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Now it's time to find out if Sync can take his developing emotions...  
But first, time to Disclaim

**I don't own Tales of the Abyss, nope, Namco does.**

* * *

'_No…I don't want to die now…I don't…' _

'_He just keeps saying that over and over…'_

"Wake up…" Sync felt his body being lightly shook, "you're not going to die," a familiar voice made its way into Sync's head, but he couldn't quite understand. To him, it was just a noise.

"I can't look at this…" another voice entered and left, followed by what sounded like, and was, footsteps.

Sync's eyes slowly fluttered open, his daze keeping him from any extreme reactions, "who…where…" he stuttered out, unable to piece a sentence together. His body was still laying against the same tree that he had been pinned to by Van a few hours beforehand.

"Don't try to talk…we're going to help you, alright?" the familiar voice spoke once again; he could tell it was a woman, but couldn't quite figure out whom.

Her face came out as hazy to him; therefore he couldn't make out who she was by looking at her. "I don't…want help…I want…to die," he choked his words out, which at the time had required extreme effort.

"I healed most of your wounds, but we should get you to a bed," she placed her hand upon his cheek, positioning his face so that his eyes met with hers; they were a gorgeous shade of blue.

Sync's eyes, however, seemed empty and were half closed; he looked dead, "I…I don't…" he was still having trouble forming a sentence.

"You're lucky we decided to help you, you _are_ an enemy, after all." Her face became clear; it was Tear Grants, one of his adversaries. His enemy? Helping him? He wouldn't and couldn't allow this.

"Sh-shut up!" Sync summoned all the strength in his body to merely get on one knee, _'My body…I'm going to split in half…'_ Sync felt the need to keep his pain concealed, even though it was obvious how he was feeling.

Tear closed her eyes and tightened her lips; frustrated, "If you're too proud to accept my help," she stood and began backing away, "then maybe I shouldn't have bothered trying."

"Maybe you shouldn't have," Sync managed a grimace, still unable to lift himself all the way up.

"Ugh…" Tear muttered something under her breath, clenching her fist at her side, "what is it you want? Get busy living, or get busy dying."

"I just…I just want to…" Sync froze mid-sentence as he felt a warm, wet sensation running down the right side of his face. He would have reached up to feel what is was, but his arms wouldn't respond to his brain's signals to move them; he was completely locked up.

Tear looked a little surprised, but promptly shook her head and held out her staff.

"Wh-…" Sync's eyes blurred out of concentration, and his ears filled with a familiar buzzing.

"Sync…?" everything went black.

* * *

"Where…" Sync's eyes once again opened, he was lying in a bed within a small room with eggshell walls and a few pieces of furniture scattered amongst them. It seemed like a pretty shotty room, but it had an odd charm to it. There was a window off to the left of where he was, he was still in the desert, and there was not a single thing in sight other than endless mountains of sand and dust.

"Oh, you're awake!" a man with cornflower blue hair was standing next to Sync's bed. He was tall, looking around his mid-twenties, and wore a large brown hat that shaded his head; covering his eyes.

"Who are you!? Where am I?" Sync was again startled by another sudden change in location, "what happened? Where's that girl?"

"Not so many questions…" the man pulled up a chair next to the bed, grabbing a glass of cold cider from the nightstand, sipping it and placing it down once again, "allow me to explain."

"I'm listening," Sync situated himself into a more upright position, rubbing his wrapped shoulder; where he had been impaled by Van. He was still recalling the feeling of the blade getting slowly ripped out from within him, and the ugly, sadistic look on Van's face; he winced.

"Something wrong?" the man tilted his hat up, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Just explain exactly what the hell happened," his voice took on a sour tone.

"Alright. My name is Clarth, and this is the Mirage Inn," he made a motion around the room with his arm.

"…you're kidding," Sync blinked twice, "the Mirage Inn is nothing but a myth!"

There was an old wives tale about a man who was stranded in the desert, desperate for some kind of shelter. The man died, but supposedly his spirit decided that he would try to prevent anyone from going through the same painful death he did, and thus he created the Mirage Inn. It could only be seen in the eyes of dying men and those that are with them. Was Clarth that man? Could this really be the Mirage Inn?

"I'm afraid not. Six or so people came here carrying you. They said they found you in the middle of the desert, battered to a pulp. They found me and had me take care of you. You'll be fine in a day or so…" Clarth explained.

"Six people…? What did they look like?" Sync asked while examining his fading wounds and scars.

"Lemme see here," he cupped his chin, "There was…a red haired boy…Luke, I believe…and—" Sync cut off Clarth in mid-sentence.

"Dammit, so it wasn't a dream…" Sync clenched his fist, but quickly released it, as it was irritating one of the wounds on his hand.

"I remember two of them were arguing…one said you shoulda been left to die, and this little one said that that was completely unacceptable…" he cupped his chin, "somethin' to that degree," Clarth explained further, taking another sip of his cider.

'_Anise…damn…'_ Sync shook his head, "well, in any case, I guess I should be thankful for you helping me…even if I didn't want to be saved in the first place."

Clarth raised an eyebrow once again, "you telling me you _wanted_ to die?"

Sync simply nodded his head.

"Kids these days…" Clarth sighed, standing up and lifting his glass, "I've got something to attend to, you make sure to rest up and don't get too excited, injured people with heatstroke tend to be pretty erratic" Clarth walked out of the room, dragging his finger across the wall as he exited.

'_Erratic?' _Sync began to stare up at the ceiling despondently, completely detached from reality; his mind in a more serious and yet, more fragile state than it ever had been.

'_Why am I still here…'_ he wondered, _'Van could have killed me…the replica could have killed me…so why am I still alive…' _he suddenly summoned the strength to plant his feet on the floor, lifting his body out of the bed.

"This life," he spat on the ground, "I don't want it anymore…it's time I end this…this pathetic fake," emerald eyes, filled with just a touch of insanity cast themselves on a silver kitchen knife sitting atop of a kingwood dresser. He approached the dresser, dragging his feet across the floor, and lifted the knife up, staring into it intently as he walked in front of a mirror that stood on the wall.

"I've been wasting my time with Van…I don't need this, I don't need this life!" he slowly pressed the flat end of the knife up against his throat with a shaking hand. Why was he so nervous? He wanted this, didn't he? He continued to stare into the mirror.

His green hair was greasy and unkempt, his eyes bloodshot and tired from the stress that had been placed upon him. The clothes he was wearing had dark, crimson stains of blood. His skin showed obvious sign of being beaten, battered, and bruised. Bandages covered his right shoulder, making it look rather bulky, and you could tell he'd been lying in the sand from how dirty and dry he looked. Sync was a complete mess.

"I can do this myself, I'll be fixing everything!" he yelled at his reflection, as if a part of him wanted to do it and a part of him begged not to.

The knife slowly slid across his throat at the command of his hand; he shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the pain of his throat splitting ajar.

Seconds later, his fingers led their way up to the path the knife had crossed, feeling for the blood and the wound that it should hold. His hand glided around his entire neck, but there was no cut, no slit, no blood flowing down to his already blood stained body.

"Ha…hahaha!" he laughed like a maniac, his voice making a rough crack; lips dripping with a feral tone, "guess I slipped…" he lifted the hand that gripped the knife, this time pressing its prongs lightly against his throat.

His hands became even more unsteady as the pressure of the knife pushing against his throat increased; trying his hardest to numb himself of any emotions until the deed was done; a task he wouldn't be able to fulfill.

"I…I…I can do this…" his voice quaked, fighting his hidden desire to live.

"Die, you pathetic…" his grip on the knife loosened, his eyes connecting sharply with those of his reflection.

"Those eyes…" the knife fell out of his grasp onto the ground, his body shook vigorously.

"That's not…th-this isn't me!" he yelled into his reflection, sick at the boy he saw. "I don't have feelings! I don't want to live this pathetic life!" he finally cracked, "what are you!?" Sync pounded his fist into the glass mirror; it shattered into countless pieces that fell to the ground like glitter.

Sync collapsed to his knees; something he'd seemed to be doing a lot of lately, "what's happening to me…?"

* * *

"So you understand the consequences this time? Fail and you're not going to get what you need," Van was addressing Arietta with some orders. Standing in another large room; their current hideout.

"Sir, yes sir," Arietta answered robotically, clearly unpleased at whatever it was Van was making her do; or was doing to her.

"I do hope you can find it in yourself to complete your objective, I'd hate to see you just fade away," Van remarked, his words creating a pitch just as evil as ever.

"Yes…" Arietta couldn't help but lower her head in a desperate attempt to hide this newfound disgust in the commandant. Ion was dead, why did she still have to follow his orders? What was left to gain? Nothing but revenge.

"Good, now be on your way. We have little time to waste," Van dismissed Arietta, turning his back on her coldly.

"Okay…" Arietta contracted a grimace and scurried outside; riding her liger off to do what Van had instructed her to.

"Sir," Largo suggested to his superior, shortly after watching him cue Arietta to scram, "are you sure that this is all completely necessary?" even he had began to question the Commandants actions as of late.

"In these trying times, it's only necessary to weed out those that are not fully committed to our cause. They can't let their emotions get the best of them at a time like this," Van explained, "they should learn to be a bit more like you, Largo."

"Sir, even the most loyal of dogs will bite if you choke them,"

"Largo, we have a great duty to fulfill; we have no time for roadblocks. Destroy the defection, and all will be well. Now go make sure our little deed is done, I can't trust that little runt after last time…" Van paced back and forth.

"I entrust my fate to you, sir," Largo nodded loyally and made his way off.

Van chuckled; now on his lonesome, "oh Sync," he chuckled again, "this is quite the little mistake we have here," he cupped his chin, "hopefully this won't be getting out of hand..."

* * *

**A/N: **Don't worry guys, we can assume this is as emo as Sync is going to get. He won't be as bad as Luke(Ahahaha) Next chapter will close up this desert storyline thing, and we'll get to see a lot more of our favorite heroes! Yay!  
Look forward to Chapter three coming soon!


End file.
